Page 46 of The Kiss Countdown

The creek isn’t so much a body of water as it is a dried-up mass of rock, split with hundreds of cracks from years of erosion, descending into a small, damp valley. To me, it looks like a close-up in a commercial for dry skin, but Vincent seems to hum with energy as we step down onto the outer edges of the creek bed.

“What’s the story behind this creek?” I ask him.

“It doesn’t look like much now, but come the first good rains of spring, it’s a nice little spot. This is where I learnedto skip rocks. Can you do it?” He doesn’t look surprised when I shake my head no. “We’ll have to come back in the fall. I’ll teach you.”

“Good idea, Vince,” Mrs. Rogers says, stepping over a small crevice in the ground to come stand near Vincent and me. “Youmustbring Amerie back to see the creek. We’ll all make a weekend of it. We’ll do that and the wine train.”

Given how excited Mrs. Rogers is at the thought of Vincent coming back, and the fact that the bargain between Vincent and me will be well over by the time he’s able to visit again, I should let the topic drop. However, the event planner in me has her curiosity piqued.

“I’ve heard of the wine train, but have never experienced one. Can you tell me about it?” I ask her.

She graces me with a pleased smile. “Of course. The wine train isn’t here, but the next town over. Camille, Brianna, and I went last year. We rode in a restored Victorian car all around the countryside for three hours. They had plenty of wines for tasting, but nothing compared to the food. I had the best pumpkin bisque soup of my life.”

“Ooh, are you telling her about the wine train?” Camille asks, then takes a sip from her water bottle. “Have you ever had a peach-and-fig salad? So, so good.”

“Now that you’re family, you’ll have to come on some of these girls’ trips with us,” Mrs. Rogers says. “Vincent can find something to do with his dad. Both of them say my trips are too boring and soft anyway.” She waves her hand negligently.

I nod while inwardly cringing. I knew I should have let the topic die down. It’s touching that Mrs. Rogers would so willingly label me as one of her own, but now guilt stabs at me for this act she’s clearly eager to buy into. How quickly would she rescind her offer if she knew there would be nomore visits from Vincent with me in tow because thereisno Vincent and me?

I want to gauge how Vincent feels about her future plans, but when I turn around, he’s not there. Maybe his mom was right that he has no interest in wine trains, because he’s standing in the middle of the empty creek with Lance.

The sun shines directly on Lance, with a bright beam reflecting off the corner of his glasses, making him squint as his hands move animatedly. Vincent’s face is little more than a shadow with the light directly behind him, but I see his strong profile and the flash of white teeth as he starts laughing at whatever Lance says. It’s a full, hearty bellow with no pretenses, holding nothing back. The kind of laugh you let loose only around those you feel truly comfortable with, not caring if they see your face at an unflattering angle or have a wide-open view of your tonsils. The kind of laugh that almost makes me wish I were a stand-up comedian capable of delivering funny one-liners at will so I could have him cracking up until he loses his breath.

“You know, they make for great romantic dates too,” Mrs. Rogers says.

I turn back to her, and it takes me a moment to remember that we were talking about wine trains. The smile she flaunts like a proud momma bear, however, tells me she’s more than pleased with my getting off track and staring at Vincent. My face heats, and if it were someone else—say, for example, Gina—regarding me in the same way, I’d without a doubt tell her it wasn’t what it looked like. I’m not obsessed with him or anything. I just haven’t heard him laugh so loud before. And of course I wouldn’t dream of becoming a comedian to hear it again. That was silly hypothetical thinking.

But this is Mrs. Rogers, and I am here to get her tobelieve everythingshethinks I feel for Vincent is real. So I smile and nod. “The whole thing sounds delightful.”

As Mrs. Rogers and Camille walk around to get reacquainted with their creek, I hang out by myself, unsure of what exactly to do. Vincent seems to be having a good time and doesn’t need any interference from me. He and Lance are now tossing small rocks, in what I can only assume is an imitation of skipping rocks on water, while a few feet away, Mr. Rogers holds Sheba’s leash so Brianna can wrap her braids into a large bun on top of her head.

Vincent may have been wary of coming to spend the week with his family, but there’s no doubt in my mind how much they all love and enjoy being around one another. Even though I have my mom and dad, who I love above all, watching everyone here interact so seamlessly makes me wish for a big family to go along with a big home.

I let myself imagine that I really am becoming a part of their family. Just for a minute. That Vincent and I really did come together after some whirlwind romance and this is only the first of many trips we plan to take out here, spending fun-filled weekends at his childhood home.

“Look!” Brianna says, and I’m snatched from my daydream. She’s pointing at something in the distance, but everyone is huddled in a line, staring across the creek, and I’m too far away to see.

I’m content to let them have their family time and not worry about whatever I’m missing out on until Camille speaks up. “Where’s Amerie?”

Six heads swivel around, but it’s Vincent who spots me right away. He seems surprised that I’m off by myself and immediately comes to me. “What are you doing all the way over here? Come on, I want you to see this,” he says with his hand out.

I look at Vincent, then at everyone behind him waiting to include me in the sight, and place my hand in his, ignoring how my heart lurches at our contact.

When we join everyone, I look in the direction I think they’re staring, but all I see is overgrown grass. “What am I looking for?”

“It’s straight ahead,” Vincent says.

I scan the area again. “What’s straight ahead?”

“Right there.” Brianna gestures with her hand. “You see it?”

“No. I don’t see anything.”

“You don’t see that thing right in front of your face?” Vincent questions.

I grit my teeth. “The only thing right in front of my face is air, which, last time I checked, was invisible. Just tell me what to look for.”

“It’s right there,” Camille chimes in, as if it’s so obvious.

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